Muse

My post yesterday was tame. Lame? Not like the spontaneous voice that sometimes comes to me when I'm doing the "practice". I hadn't really done the practice yesterday. Just picking things out of my head and placing them on screen and watching it form into something. It wasn't terrible. For a colloquial piece, I guess. And it formed this, which I am editing and adding to now.

 

But it got me remembering about muses and how some say a force or being comes to them, and when they show up--well, you know the rest. I can see what they mean. But it's not exactly the way they make it seem. You have an overall feeling for the muse. That mindset, that something different, overtakes you. A force? A spirit? Is the flow moving through your body to control you, to work with "the force". It can certainly feel that way sometimes. And the way people say they experience this is their interpretation of that muse thing that comes to them. It can make them a different person. I can see that. Like how actors get into a different character. This force, or being, or whatever comes to you, and it takes over.

 

When it does, boy, it's a pleasure. Sometimes it's a relief. But I think the practice I mention often can help bring out this muse. Or muses. Depending on how many you have. Or thing/force. You can force it out. Like pouring water into a hole to force an animal to come out. A pest maybe? It can be a pest. If it's a violent muse that makes you think evil things. You pick up a knife and wonder. You just stare at the shiny blade and contemplate. And then you snap out of it and hear a weird noise. It shocks you. You tighten. Then look down and realize you'd dropped the knife.

 

You look out the window to make sure there's no one looking in. Good. The blinds are shut. But that knife is still there. You reach for it, fingers curling around the handle--or blade if you're a sick puppy. And then you...

 

...replace it in the utensil drawer and turn and see that bastard staring back at you. That sick muse. A smirk cut into the doughy face, yellowing teeth like tombstones pushing out from black gums. He waves and then you realize it was just the shadow from the toaster oven.

 

Back to the water. I don't know which specific animals they do this with. Usually pests that burrow underground. I'm not going to research it. I've seen it. Various chemicals or simply water (c'mon, don't hurt the poor critters) will do the trick. So you flood the hole with words (the "practice") and out it comes. Like a genie in a bottle. You got to rub it the right way. Or hit the keys the right way? And clicky keys don't hurt, you know? The louder the better.

 

There can be many different muses. So don't think it's only one. And don't be surprised if they are more a part of you than you know. Some think it's an outside entity that's coming to use our hand as it's pen. The toaster oven shadow ones. With the teeth. But when it comes an artist listens to what it has to say. Because you may be in for a treat.

 

WCM